


Missing Home

by Marble_Ocean



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Doropetra, Epistolary, F/F, I know letter aren’t to everyone taste but give this a chance ;), I will be adding a prose chapter, Love Letters, Romance, happy doropetra day !
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-23
Updated: 2020-01-02
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:48:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21533227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marble_Ocean/pseuds/Marble_Ocean
Summary: ‘Maybe I will come to miss your voice more than I have missed this breeze, I believe I will.’‘I envy any woman who gets to trade any love letters with you one day.’Of letters, paintings and poetry. Dorothea and Petra cherish word from one another, perhaps more than they realise.
Relationships: Dorothea Arnault & Petra Macneary, Dorothea Arnault/Petra Macneary
Comments: 18
Kudos: 178
Collections: Dorothea/Petra Day 2019





	1. Letters

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you once again Sarah (shadocoon) for recommending I write an epistolary, it’s been such a fun ride!
> 
> Happy Doropetra Day 💖

Dear Dorothea,

You may be surprised to know that this is indeed Petra writing to you. As I have expressed many times, my Fódlan writing skills are very good, it is just the speaking I struggle with. It is actually quite pleasant to be speaking to you in this manner, as well as one could ‘speak’ through a letter, that is. I do not have to worry about saying the wrong word or phrase, it is peaceful, almost.

I am sorry, this is not why I wanted to write to you. I wanted to write to you because I wanted to express how overcome with joy I am to be back home in Brigid. I feel you would love to know the most, you have always shown great kindness about my homesickness. I am ever-thankful for that. The truth is, I feel a little ashamed for forgetting what the warm breeze felt like as I walked along the shore. It is truly beautiful, Dorothea, I can feel our Brigid Goddess, Môor, cradling me as I let the waves wash over my body. Have you ever been to the beach? I love nothing more than the wind in my hair and the sound of the shore, I believe you would love it too.

As you know, I must assemble what power I can in Brigid. For Edelgard to succeed, she will be needing my might and the might of my people. I am worried my Daid, the King, will be reluctant to help. My Dayn made his choice by entering the war against Ardestia, it cost him life and to some degree, mine. Daid is understandably worried that he may lose more of his kin and not only that, if I were to die, the royal bloodline would cease and Brigid would be without leadership. I cannot let such a future befall my people.

I do not know how long I will be remaining here and while I cannot say I am eager to leave my country, I hope you and I will meet again sooner than we think. I said I love nothing more than the sound of the ocean meeting the sands, well, your voice does comes close to that great love. ‘Absence makes the heart grow fonder,’ Daid says. Maybe I will come to miss your voice more than I have missed this breeze, I believe I will.

Your stalwart friend and ally,

Petra Macneary

Dear Petra,

I wasn’t surprised by your letter at all! We studied together, remember? I know how you can write but I have to say, you’ve quite the silver-tongue when you’re writing freely, I envy any woman who gets to trade love letters with you one day. Your handwriting is simply gorgeous, by the by. I do hope I told you that in classes, you work so hard after all. And don’t worry, I think your way of speaking Fódlan is endearing. I always did enjoy hearing you talk about Brigid, especially when you occasionally slipped into its native language.

Those days feel like so long ago now.

It warms my heart to hear from you, Petra, I’m so happy for you. I hated to see you homesick. I couldn’t imagine what it’s like, seeing as how I’ve never really had a home but I knew it pained you. Never mind that now though, I need to know exactly what Brigid looks like! Paint me a pretty picture! I’ve never been to the beach, in fact, I can’t even swim. I’ve always tried to imagine the ocean, is it really so blue? I remember you telling me about Môor, she’s your Goddess of love and the sea. I hope I remembered that correctly…

I understand why you had to go and why Edie started this war in the first place. I just wish that you didn’t have to. I wish the Church would of, I don’t know, bowed out gracefully, their act was up the moment we lay eyes on Rhea’s true form. I don’t think I’ll ever forget it, my dreams certainly won’t even if it’s been nearly two years. I believe in Edie, just like our Professor did and I’ll be working hard too, for everyone.

Petra, you really are sweet, you know that? I’m going to miss you more than I could admit to anyone else. I’ll miss your optimism, your patience for all my ramblings and well- everything about you, if I’m honest. Perhaps your smile more than anything else, the way your mark rises as your eyes squint with laughter. You’re beautiful.

Your favourite diva,

Dorothea Arnault 

Dear Dorothea,

I have received your letter and am writing this from the balcony of my home, where I can see Brigid children playing together. It is warming my heart to know I am fighting for their future as well as our own.

I am sorry for the delay, it has taken me a long time to paint you the piece that should arrive with this letter. I do not have a natural ability for art but I truly hope you find this worthy. I have painted for you the view from the west side of Brigid, where there are many unknowns on the horizon and the sea stretches the farthest. It is one of my favourite places, it is very peaceful. We call it ‘Mor an Buu.’ That would translate to ‘The Sea Belly.’ I would have asked for a commission but I did not feel it would be sufficient- I wanted to do this for you myself. It took me four days, one piece was lost to the sudden rain so I had to restart. Again I am sorry this letter is later than intended but I hope you find this worth it.

To know that you remembered one of our Goddesses and that you like how I speak, it fills me with joy. I also like how you spoke to me, you never changed your speech like others did because they did not think I understood, much to my annoyance. But I admit, I do not know what ‘silver-tongue’ means.

Dorothea, if you would allow me, I would take you to the ocean. Fódlan beaches are not comparable to Brigid but they are still lovely. I would like to be there to see you see the sea. Haha.

It is amazing how you can make me blush, even though you are so far away. You say such things but it is you who is the most beautiful, Dorothea. I will miss all that you are too. 

Tomorrow- we are expecting envoys from the church who have come to negotiate with my Daid, they will be meeting me as well and I will be prepared. No matter what they are offering- or threatening- Brigid will not bow to the whims of the Church. I stand with Edelgard and I will ensure the rest of Brigid does also, I assure you of this.

Your stalwart friend and ally,

Petra Macneary 

Dear Petra,

Petra, you I Well, to be completely honest, I’m not too sure what to write. Your painting is gorgeous, I can’t believe you actually did this! Not because I think you would lack the skill but-! Petra, dear, ‘paint me a picture’ is an expression we use to tell people to describe us things. I feel just awful using it on you knowing how much time you spent on this just for me when you could have been doing something else. But I hope you don’t regret it now, it’s absolutely wonderful, I can’t begin to thank you enough. I’m going to place it in my room so it can be the first thing I see when I wake up in the morning. 

Oh, Petra, I’m looking at it again right now and I feel yearning, the love and care you put into this is so moving. If this is how I feel from looking at a painting, I can’t begin to fathom your sorrow when you were taken from your home. I’m so happy you’re back where you belong now, if only you could stay.

If the beach is even remotely close to how you have painted it here, I would love nothing more than to see it with you. You can absolutely take me, though I did want to meet you at the docks when you come back to Fódlan, I suppose I will have to wear a blindfold until you arrive haha!

It’s fun to know I can make you blush, I haven’t lost my touch it seems! But I suppose I’ll have to admit I’m blushing too. I’ve been called beautiful so many times but from you… it feels different, good different. Though I won't have you insist you are anything but the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever met, princess.

Given that this letter isn’t probably going to arrive for at least two weeks, you’ve probably already had your ‘meeting’ with the church. I hope it went well, I’m sure it did but I can’t help but worry.

Be safe,

Dorothea Arnault

P.S. ‘Silver-tongued’ means speaking very eloquently, usually poetically. Typically, it’s in regards to someone who is a manipulator but I know you’re not, I just think it’s a very lovely saying.

Dear Dorothea,

Today I am writing from Brigid’s royal dining hall. Perhaps it is not the most suitable place for writing but the last few days have been… perilous and events have only just settled. Once again, my letter is later than intended and I am sorry. 

As Edelgard must have informed you, the Church sent their envoys and they were not as polite as hoped, that is one way of putting it. I have taken a hit to my face, there will probably be a little scar on my brow but that is okay- scars are something to take pride in. They are a mark of survival. The Church did not survive, we have sent their bodies back, they can be buried in Fódlan where they belong.

I do not mind that I misread the expression of painting a picture. I am happy you like my painting, if there was enough time I would love to be painting you more of Brigid. But there is not much time. Until I can show you these beaches myself, I will take you to Fódlan’s shores. Maybe I can also teach you to swim?

Thank you for your clarification on the term ‘silver-tongued.’ I also thank you for thinking I have skills in the Fódlan language but if it is poetics you seek, I can certainly try. I have sent, with this letter, a Brigid poem that dates back to before the creation of the Kingdom. We have many bards here in Brigid, it is… I think you would say ‘romantic?’ I have done my best to translate, please enjoy them. 

You must not tell a soul this but I had always wanted to be a bard, alas I cannot sing very well and my poetry is not very good. I wonder if that is why I was drawn to you at first, you and your wonderful singing. Of course I see more than your voice in you, you are kind and… I do not know a word for it but when others are sad- you feel their sadness too. That is rare and beautiful, like you are a spirit of the earth reborn. You said once that someone compared your eyes to gemstones, I disagree. Your eyes are like grass. Grass caught in the sunlight of a warm day, speckled with flecks of yellow flowers reaching out to that sun, soft and flowing. I feel as though I could lie in them forever and forget all of my worries, my fears. ~~Maybe I Can we~~

You are making me blush again, calling me princess! But to know I have made you blush too, that is satisfying. I will call you beautiful forever, Dorothea, if you would let me. I will call you many more things, just to make you feel as warm as you make me feel.

I am safe,

Petra Maceneary 

__________________________________________________________________________________

Taken unto me like,

The swirling hot and cold,

Of currents,

Love-making in the tides.

Came as a beloved spirit,

Your hands coil around,

A smile delicate on your face,

Till I can breathe no more.

I take my place,

At your throat,

And slip around,

Just the same.

__________________________________________________________________________________

Dear Dorothea,

It has been a moon since I heard from you last, I am hoping that you received my letter, it can be dangerous for messengers when crossing the sea. I pray to the spirits that they have not perished. I have also sent word to Edelgard of this, so you may have heard but I have excellent news. My Daid has been convinced of our cause, Brigid and Adrestia will fight as one. I am thinking that I can return back to you soon.

Did you enjoy the poetry? It is hard to translate, especially when the language of old Brigid is somewhat different to Brigid now. I must translate from Brigid, to Brigid, to Fódlan! 

You We 

I am sorry if my last letter was too… I do not know the word. Too much? Perhaps my heart is straned strained from distance and my feelings are more forceful but I want you to know that I speak the truth.

I am just hoping I have not upset you. This letter is a short one so as to save you the displeasure of reading from me if I have upset you.

Be safe, please,

Petra Macneary

Dear Petra,

This is Edelgard writing to you. Do not be alarmed, Dorothea is alive, she is just recovering from an injury and cannot write at present. We were ambushed by attempted usurpers on the road, Dorothea took a hit to her shoulder. She was very brave, Petra, she braced a spear meant for Ferdinand. Alas, our primary healers perished during the battle and she was not healed in time for her recovery to be as swift as we would have liked. She cannot move her writing arm very well because of this though she has certainly been trying, much to Maneula’s insistence that she shouldn’t.

For the record, I have not read any of your previous correspondence. I will be writing my own letter to you regarding Brigid and Ardestria’s future together, I know it will be bright.

She has insisted I write on her behalf and so, here I am with her p eeking over my shoulder like a She will not let me finish the sentence. In truth I am honoured she would come to me for this, she has not stopped gushing gu ————- _______________ ——————————————- 

gu shin g 

We are struggling to find more supplies at the moment, we cannot afford to waste paper. She loves your letters a lot, that is my point.

She has asked me to write up the following:

Petra, I am so glad you’re safe. I was fretting non-stop when I heard what had happened, I almost didn’t believe you were okay until I got your letter myself. I wish I had gotten it at a better time, a time where I haven’t gone and gotten myself a bad shoulder. It’s been kind of worth it to see Ferdie so thankful though, dare I say I’m warming up to him? Well… let’s not go that far.

If your Daid has agreed to help, does that mean you’ll be coming back soon? Not that I want you to leave Brigid but I can’t deny that I feel like I’ve been waiting too long to see you again. 

A scar only adds to your charm, Petra, in fact, I think it would make you look even more handsome! Mine is probably going to end up so ugly but that’s being pierced with a spear for you! Despite what I said, please try not to get anymore scars, I know how much they hurt...

The poem you sent me was beautiful, so romantic in such a strange but wonderful way. I have it pinned up on my wall next to your painting! I can’t send anything to you that compares to these gifts, I don’t have much but I have asked Edie to give this letter a little dose of my perfume, just to remind you that I’m doing just fine and that if you do miss me as much as you say, then hopefully this will ease things until you come back to me.

I think you would be amazing at that thing you told me not to tell anyone else about, in fact, I know you would be. I’ve already seen evidence of it when you thought no one else could see. (Dorothea would like me to draw a ‘winking face’ but I cannot bring myself to do it. Sorry.)

I cannot I will Petra I’m very frustrated that I can’t write at the moment, there are so many things I wish to say that I would like to remain private between us. No offence, Edie. (None taken) Please, be patient with me, Petra. I promise you could never upset me.

I miss you,

Dorothea Arnault

P.S. Petra, this is Edelgard once again. Dorothea will not be reading this part, she thinks the letter has already been sent. I must be blunt here, the ambush has shaken her more so than any other battle we’ve had. If that spear had hit Ferdinand, it would have most certainly killed him and I don’t think that thought has left her mind. My intention is not to worry you but just to keep you informed on her well-being. I feel the toll of this war is weighing down on her more than she is willing to admit. She is an incredibly strong woman but far too empathetic to not be affected mentally. I am certain you will not need prompting to comfort her, I just want to request that whatever you are saying to her in these letters, do not stop. She has never been as happy as she is when she reads from you. Better yet, come back soon, The Black Eagle Strike Force is not the same without you.

P.S.S Were you any other woman, I would be threatening you not to break her heart. 

Dearest Dorothea,

I am full of relief to hear you are wll we well. Apologies, my hands have been shaking, I fear I may be overworking myself with training but now that I know you are alright, I can perhaps relax a little more. I have never felt such worry and that feeling is telling me I must return to you soon. 

Your bravery is unmatched, the scar you have earned is physical proof of it. I am sure it is as precious as the rest of you, a compliment to your wonder, your kindness to others. Ferdinand is right to show his gratitude, though I understand he can be… excessive at times.

You think I would be a good bard? Then I suppose I am free to admit that I had lied about that poem I sent you. I am embarrassed to admit that I wrote that poem but now that I know you are fond of it, perhaps you would allow me to sing it to you? You say you have already heard my voice, I suppose I am not as quiet as I had hoped. I also thank you for not telling Edelgard...

Dorothea, I ask that you wait for me on the day of my return. Perhaps it is selfish of me to request but yours is the first face I want to see when I arrive back to Fódlan. No one else, just you. When I opened your letter and I could smell your scent, I realised then that you mean more to me than what I knew before. It was like being struck with an arrow, though I wonder if I had been struck years and years ago, when we had first been friends at Garagg Mach. 

Absence has made me fonder yes but I feel it has also unlocked something in me I did not think I would have room to possess in my heart. For years my heart has been full of pain, I could not return home to Brigid. I was a hostage, my Dayn had perished in a pointless war and I was so alone. But you were always there for me, you have filled me with joy. I will be fighting for Brigid and for us, I will make sure we will never have to sustain anymore scars ever again. No one will lay a hand on you so long as I breathe.

If you will wait for me, I will be coming home to you soon, may Môor guide me. We can talk, private, between the two of us, there are things better said in person after all.

Yours,

Petra Macneary


	2. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And here is the prose chapter as promised! I only wanted to write around five-hundred words but 4100 words later annnd here we are haha.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here is the prose chapter as promised! I only wanted to write around five-hundred words but 4100 words later annnd here we are haha.

“Okay, Edie, how do I look?”

Edelgard regarded her friend fondly, the way her sweeping red dress flowed over her body. Were it white, one would think it might be for a wedding. A chuckle breezed past Edelgard’s lips. With this gesture Dorothea was pulling off, it might as well have been.

“You look stunning, Dorothea. More so than usual.”

Dorothea’s hand came up to her mouth in a giggle. 

“Thank you. Oh, I’m so nervous.” Her thumb disappeared behind her teeth. “What if she sees me and she changes her mind? Or she doesn’t feel the same—“

“My friend.” Edelgard cut in sharply, taking her hand from her mouth and squeezing it reassuringly. “I won’t have you entertain such thoughts.”

“But-!”

“Don’t ‘but’ the Emperor.” Edelgard was thankful she couldn’t see her wink, she’d never be able to live it down. “Now, allow me.”

“Oh… Okay, Edie.” Dorothea’s hand trembled slightly in hers but she smiled all the same as she was guided into the carriage. 

~*~

“I hate to leave you, Daid.” Petra leaned into the hand of her grandfather, his large hand framing her cheek, frial thumb wiping a tear from her eye.

“I hate to see you go.” He said, melancholy aching in his voice but still, he smiled, tattoos curving around his features. “But you must. You will fight, and Flame Spirit be with you, Little Arrow, you will prevail.”

Petra embraced the old man tightly as he returned the gesture just as fiercely.

At least leaving was easier this time. She was not being dragged by her arms- the bruises of which did not fade for weeks- and being forced to bow before an unknown power. No, this time she was returning to a land that she will force to look upon Brigid as it’s equal. 

“I will, Daid.” The pain of leaving still stung however. She cleared her throat, leaning back from the embrace to look him in the eye. “I will return home to you once more, I will show you I am worthy of being Queen.”

“My girl,” King Macneary sighed with all the patience of a man too world-weary. “Prove it to the world.”

Petra looked to the horizon, where that world awaited her.

“Yes.” She nodded, her hand gripped the new tattoo over her arm.. “The Earth Spirits will be calling me back home when I have done so. I will honour them and us.”

He smiled knowingly. “The Earth Spirits won’t just be calling to you alone.”

Petra blushed deeply, she had never hid from her Daid but still it was a little embarrassing that she couldn’t stop the grin tugging at her lips. 

“You believe it so?” Nor could she stop the unbidden urge to talk about her. “Oh, Daid, I have missed her greatly…”

“I know, Little Arrow.” 

“I have missed her sweet voice, she is like a songbird and has a soul as gentle as an evening tide.”

“You have said as much.”

“Do you not think it is funny that this connection never felt truly real until after we parted ways?”

“‘Absence make-‘“

“‘Makes the heart grow fonder.’ I am aware of the saying, Daid!”

“Go then!” He laughed jovially, practically shoving her towards the boat. “Go to her!”

To be pushed to Fódlan rather than being pulled to it was a much more pleasant experience.

~*~

Dorothea could hardly contain her own heart. Its adorations, its anxieties, manifesting in fidgety hands and the occasional rickety sigh. She could hear the waves of the ocean, they sounded… soft. She tried to sync her breathing to the crescendos. In… Out… In… Out-!

A seagull cawed overhead, making her yelp. Her worries came back full force and she felt like she could honestly cry. 

Petra! Her Petra was coming back! 

But what if she didn’t feel the same…

Taking another deep breath- oh, the air was salty- she recited her lines. Another seagull belted out but she paid it no mind, murmuring to herself what she would say, how she would say it. Only she was privy to her whispers but soon, Petra would be too.

Every odd little noise threatened to break her concentration. The wind rustled her dress, was it a sail? The pier groaned, was it Petra’s footsteps? 

Steady, Dorothea, steady.

~*~

The wind was swift, guiding Petra’s boat with great power behind it. The sea lapped up the sides, occasionally tickling her ankles as if to reassure her. Petra adjusted the sail and she was thrust forward faster. Her hair whipped around her as she looked up to the sky. It would be evening by the time she got to Fódlan, given the suns position.

Would Dorothea be waiting for her?

Petra chose to hope so- ever a woman of instinct that she was. Dorothea was waiting for her. They would be reunited and... 

She stumbled a tad as the boat jerked from a sudden clash of tides.

What was she going to say? She hadn’t really thought about it. She couldn’t hope to replicate her ‘silver-tongue’ that she possessed in her writing. But then again, Dorothea had said that her way of speaking Fódlan was endearing, perhaps she shouldn’t worry so much. Oh, but Dorothea deserved the romanticism she craved, Petra should be able to provide. She would recite her poem as promised. 

With a reignited determination in her eyes, she could see the faint mass of land taking shape and waited and waited until it would give way to the woman she adored.

~*~

All the practice in the world wouldn’t have prepared Dorothea for her arrival. The moment she heard those sure-footed steps, her heart leapt into her throat. She didn’t want to presume, she couldn’t see after all but she couldn’t help the whisper coaxed forth from her longing.

“Petra?”

She was also vastly unprepared for the depth of her voice, how her own name sounded on her lips.

“Dorothea.” Petra said with no small amount of wonder. She could hear her smile and all other sounds faded into the hazy background. She felt her step closer and suppressed all impulses to just leap into her arms. “What is that you are wearing?” The amusement in her voice was nearly too much for Dorothea.

She felt a blush simmer under her skin, she must have looked quite silly. She gestured dramatically regardless, eager to keep the situation light. Had she for a moment sobered, she would have no doubt burst into giddy tears.

_Petra, Petra, Petra!_

“The blindfold? Well you did say you wanted to ‘see me see the sea,’ remember?” She giggled, remembering quite how seriously she meant she would do this. “I had Bernie make it for me. It’s lace.”

Laughter graced her ears and then, a touch to her cheek made her all but melt. Her hands were rough yet delicate, warming her skin like a remedy. They had touched before yes but this intimacy was new, was wonderful. Her fingertips eased under the blindfold but Dorothea grabbed her wrist. “Wait!” She pulled her close and spun them around so her back was to the ocean. “I want you first.” 

Petra held fast, arms tight around her waist like she was ivy. “Of course.” She said after a long moment in which Dorothea almost wished she could read minds. “Of course, Dorothea. Allow me.” 

Before her hand came back up to her eyes, her fingertips tasted the skin of her back, up her shoulder and traced her jaw. Dorothea stilled, Petra sighed heavenly. “I have been waiting for this for so long. I have been missing you too badly.” Her thumb dared to covet her bottom lip and Dorothea’s breath hitched.

“Please, Petra, I’m going to combust. Let me see you.” 

Petra could not resist such a plea. With one gentle brush of her hand, the blindfold was carressed away from her closed eyes. They opened slowly and Petra knew that nothing could be more perfect than the vision before her. 

Dorothea’s beautiful green-blessed eyes looked at her, utterly besotted. A glassy sheen clung to them, she could almost see herself reflected. The waning sun framed her face and Petra couldn’t help but gasp at the hues enveloping her like a warm halo.

“Beautiful.” She said, cupping her cheek, ready to wipe any yet unshed tears. “Dorothea, you are most… the most beautiful woman I have ever been laying my eyes on.”

Dorothea took hold of the hand that held her cheek and leaned into it. The wind swayed her hair, as if in approval of the gesture. 

“I… Oh, Petra, I had practiced what I was going to say I swear.” Her voice was high with joy, her underlying frustration hardly tempered it. She took the blindfold off completely and nuzzled her face into Petra’s palm. Petra could feel her lips brush against her skin and she realised how desperately she wanted them on her own. “I was supposed to compliment you first...” Her voice wobbled a tad. 

“You may do so later.” Petra quipped and the songstress giggled in response.

“Your scar makes you look very handsome, you know.” Her thumb ran over the little white lightening mark that split her brow in two. 

“Y-you have my gratitude.” Petra stammered, blushing deep. She’d never been called ‘handsome’ before. Dorothea’s letters aside of course, but to hear the compliment out loud made a warm feeling pool in her veins. She regained her composure with an abrupt clearing of her throat. “I am proud of it.”

“I know.” Dorothea said, leaning down and bringing Petra in for a hug. Petra buried her face in her neck and took in her scent. Rose perfume as always but underneath was the familiar smell of her room. “Your hair’s grown.” Dorothea commented affectionately as her hands glided through her burgundy locks.

“Yours has as well.” Petra eagerly returned the gesture, pulling back from the embrace to let the strands of Dorothea’s hair slip through her fingers. It had lost its curls over the years but wartime left little room for pampering. “We are growing with each other.”

Dorothea’s expression suddenly softened into melancholy and Petra’s heart ached at the sight. “I don’t feel like I’ve grown much. More tired, maybe.”

Once again, the wind lifted her hair. Petra’s eye was drawn to her shoulder. The scar ruptured her pale skin like a burst star. She reached for it, hesitating for a second to seek approval in her gaze first. Dorothea nodded faintly. She touched it, as feather light as she could manage. Honestly, it was gorgeous. A true mark of valour and above all- kindness. But Dorothea was looking away, one finger anxiously twirling her hair. 

“Is it hurting?” Petra asked quietly.

“Not much, not anymore.”

Petra’s finger dipped into the middle, where the spear point had pierced. “You are very brave, Dorothea. It is taking a lot of courage to be moving into the line of… erm...” Her brows knitted, struggling to find the phrase. When it didn’t come she shook her head and tried again. “It is brave of you to be taking a hit for another. You are a protector at heart.”

Dorothea scoffed. “I may not be terribly fond of Ferdie but I couldn’t just let him… die.” 

“I am knowing.” Petra reassured but not willing to let the singer shove her words to the side so easily. “But it is showing your goodness of heart, Dorothea. And I was right, this scar is quite as precious as the rest of you.” Did that sound like good Fodlan? Months of talking in her home language had perhaps made her rustier than she thought. “Your markings of war can be handsome too.”

“Petra that’s...” Dorothea shifted a little, cheeks deeper in colour and a smile cracking through her features as if she were trying to suppress a laugh. “If you say so.” It was then that Petra saw the darkness under her eyes, the slight rough edge to her lips, the flatness of her once bouncy hair. It did not detract from her beauty, of course, but Petra was reminded all too cruely of how this war was affecting her. Edelgard’s words played out in her mind.

“I do say so. Now come, look.” Petra took her hands and nodded behind the other woman. “We shall be spinning around so you can be seeing the ocean. Y Mor .”

Dorothea’s face lit up, excitement bearing her grin. Petra was going to fight for the rest of her life to keep her smiling like that. 

“Okay!” She nodded. 

Petra walked to her left, their eyes not looking away from each other. When they turned fully, Dorothea broke contact and Petra watched in joyful awe as the light sparkled in her eyes.

“Wow.” Dorothea gaped.

The sea was so… big! It yawned off into the horizon, coloured a delicate orange in the setting sunlight. The waves washed up to the sands, white foam decorating it like icing. Seagulls flew overhead, their cries now pleasantly distant. Light sparkled across the surface, winking as if to invite her in. While she adored Petra’s painting, to see the swaying of tides in motion seemed to tug a feeling deep inside Dorothea. A yearning she had always felt but now brought forth with the beckoning of water. It was unlike anything she had ever seen.

Petra spoke in a tongue she didn’t understand, her words so hushed she thought she might have imagined them. She tore her eyes away to look at her, finding that incredible yearning feeling threatening to spill forth uncontrollably. She dared not speak.

“Dorothea.” Petra said, determination ignited in her eyes. “May I be taking you into the water?”

Dorothea nodded wordlessly, too happily dazed when Petra started to pull her along to the shore. She froze at the bank. She had no idea what sand felt like, it looked as if she would fall through the moment she took a step. “Do not be worried.” Petra reassured, squeezing her hand. “Take your footwear off. It is feeling very pleasant, I am promising you.” 

Dorothea looked down at her heels and then, bursting into laughter, she kicked them off. They flung into the air and landed with a sound so harsh, she knew they had broken. But she cared not, not when Petra was here.

“They weren’t that comfortable anyway.”

“I am seeing.” Petra smiled, pulling her close once more.

Dorothea’s toes disappeared under the strangely coarse yet soft sands, she took another step, then another, finding it a little difficult for her foot to rise from it. Petra was right though, it was pleasant, very warm. 

“It’s nice.” Dorothea smiled her way, shaking her feet in the sand and feeling the gentleness tickle her.

“Yes, I would be liking to feel it too.” Petra let go of her to take off her own boots and as she did so, Dorothea really took in her outfit. She looked like a true warrior princess. Decked out in bright earthy tones, her skirt and sashes comfortably hugging her body. All those tassels and necklaces looked wonderful on her as well. Dorothea was so glad she had the chance to go back to Brigid. Boots dropped to the side and Petra took her hand once again and led her further and further out to sea.

“Fodlan waters are not as warm as they are in Brigid but it is not so bad here.” She commented.. “We are closer to Brigid sea in the west, that is why.” She waited patiently for the songstress, who had once again paused.

Dorothea nearly recoiled when the water lapped up to her toes. She felt Petra’s reassuring hand in her own and steeled herself, taking one more step. The sand was immediately sturdier and it filled Dorothea with a bit more confidence. Petra was watching her intently as she wade her way in to join her, dress be damned. It shouldn’t have flustered her so, to be ruining her outfit like this but Petra’s gaze was intense in the most charming way possible. Dorothea felt her heart quicken at the thrill of the water rising to her knees and those impossibly darling eyes staring at her. 

“You know I-” Her footing failed her and she tumbled forward with a yelp, only to be caught in Petra’s waiting arms. Her breath caught in her throat from the shock and… for another very close reason.

“ I have you.” Petra pulled her up and Dorothea seemed to float into her due to the weightlessness of the water that now embraced her waist. Petra ran her fingers through her hair. “What was I knowing?” She asked with a dashing grin. Goddess, Dorothea was head over heels.

“O-oh.” She couldn’t help herself, she actually swooned like a fool. She wanted to straighten up, as if reaffirming her taller height was going to help her regain her composure. Instead she moved closer, encircling her arms around Petra’s shoulders and lifting one foot off the seabed. It was all so very self-indulgent but she didn’t care. “I can’t quite remember but I suppose it doesn’t matter.”

Her eyes moved to Petra’s lips and the huntress, as keen-eyed as she was, no doubt spotted the lingering gaze. Sensing the moment, the two moved closer still, foreheads touching, breath entwining. 

“Dorothea…” Petra whispered. “Allow me to speak my truth first…”

“Your truth?” Dorothea’s eyes widened, a thick teardrop plummeting down her cheek. When had she started crying? Petra wiped the moisture left in its wake.

“Yes. My truth.” Reluctantly, Petra pulled back and stepped away from her. The songstress looked at her, expression curious, if somewhat pained to have been moved away from. “I will be singing for you my um, poem, now. Will you be listening?”

“Oh, Petra.” Dorothea breathed. “How could I not?”

“Much excellence.” She steadied herself and bowed her head, hand on her heart. The heart she was about to gift to her Dorothea. She was nervous, sure, but she had a feeling that the gift would be accepted and better yet, reciprocated. She wouldn’t have fallen for her so strongly otherwise. She cleared her throat and began.

_“Glae’n di’yn hy srech,_

_Mer caru-por mirr,_

_Kynn irryn,_

_Bol aun trisst._

Her voice was not high and full like Dorothea’s, certainly not operatic, no. Brigid singing was quiet yet proud, more focused on the impact of each word rather than the melody. She thought to run her hands through the water, for dramatic emphasis. 

_“Gorain llo ka Fellnaran bollyddn,_

_Tiar uyna clioc fhyffn,_

_Bren perkyn,_

_Ywyn fynll hoberr._

She nearly wavered when she saw Dorothea’s grin, her eyes were crinkling, showing off the expression’s authenticity. She couldn’t help but smile back and sing the final verse a little bit louder, arms outstretched.

_“Ywyn glae’n hyn hefoed,_

_Ha tiar dydff,_

_Kip linarr fhyffn,_

_Laa’n mer pehn.”_

She finished, closing her eyes and breathing heavy. She heard Dorothea clapping, punctuated by her sniffling. Petra shot her eyes open, thinking for a second she had made a most dreadful mistake but Dorothea was beckoning her over sweetly. “Petra Macneary.” She said, voice wavering. “Get over here, right now.”

Petra obliged, laughing, wading through to meet her half way as Dorothea opened her arms wide to greet her. They embraced as if nothing else in the world mattered. Dorothea held the back of her head, openly crying. 

“Were you liking my truth?” Petra asked tentatively, stroking her hair.

“Oh, more than anything.” Dorothea held tighter still. “I relished your poem when you sent it to me and to hear it in your language was just- Well, it was wonderful but… Are you sure?”

“Am I being sure about what?” Petra cupped both of her cheeks in her hands, dutifully wiping tears away. Her eye scrunched up adorably as Petra’s thumb pushed up her cheek. 

“About everything you said in your letters.” Dorothea worried her bottom lip between her teeth, clearly torn about her choice of words. “Do you really… I mean, will you really protect me?”

“With all that I have.” Petra replied easily. She drew their faces closer together, one hand framing the side of her neck. “Dorothea, you have always filled my heart with joy, I have such gratitude for that. I would not be worthy of being yours if I would not be protecting you.”

Dorothea laughed, high and nervous. “You’re mine, huh?” Her smiling face, framed by the setting sun, verdant eyes aglow, was heart-rendering.

“Would you like to have me?” Petra whispered, moving closer to those lips she so desired. She felt Dorothea gasp quietly.

“If you don’t kiss me right now, I… I’ll never have you.”

That was not a threat to be taken lightly. “Dorothea…” She leaned forward, eyes closed and pressed a kiss to the corner of her lips first. She wondered if the older woman could sense that she had not had much experience in this, or any for that matter. Her heart fluttered incredibly, she wanted this to be right.

Dorothea’s head tilted, angling so their lips brushed together in a not-quite kiss. Petra nearly stopped breathing at the sensation when Dorothea’s hand cradled the back of her head, the other snaking around her waist. Reminding herself to be calm, Petra took the initiative and pressed their lips together softly.

Dorothea made a relieved sound not unlike a whimper and Petra moved closer in response, eager to hear it again. Though she wasn’t quite sure what to do, her heart was fit to burst. “I…” She tried to speak but the friction between their lips stilled her..

“Sshh...” Dorothea hushed her gently. “Like this.” She captured Petra’s bottom lip between hers and sucked gently, eliciting an appreciative groan from the princess. She attempted to return the gesture, caressing her cheek free of tears as she went. Dorothea’s pleased hum indicated she was doing all the right things. The world faded around them as they exchanged pleasant kisses and every anxiety and worry between them vanished. Petra was elated and judging by the way Dorothea’s lips curved into a smile against hers, she was too.

They pulled away to breathe, content to simply stare at one another. Petra had barely registered her own tears. “Will you be having me now?” She asked, the husk in her voice surprising her.

“Yes.” Dorothea breathed, pressing her forehead to Petra’s. “Only if you’ll have me too.”

“I would have been thinking that I did not to stay it?” Petra giggled, laying her hand on her heart. A show of sincerity and promise. “But I will be saying it for you. Dorothea, I would be loving to have you in my life but more than that. I would love for you to be by my side always. Are you being mine?”

“Goddess, yes, Petra.” Dorothea’s voice went high as she shook with emotion. “I love and adore you more than anything. I’ll protect you too, okay? A-and I know I can’t cook but I’ll sing you a lullaby every night! I’ll make sure you rest and… and...” 

Petra wrapped her arms around her waist and picked her up, making her squeal with delight. It was a delightful sound. “You do enough for me, blodyddyn.” 

“I’m not sure what that word means.” Dorothea flipped her hair over her shoulder when she recovered from laughter. “But I like the sound of it.”

“‘Beloved’ or… ‘dear,’ I am thinking is another translation. I wish to call you many more things in my language.” 

“Oh my.” Dorothea flushed. “What else would you like to do?”

Petra didn’t even need to think it over. “When this war is over, I will be taking you back to Brigid. I believe we are fated and that the Spirits will be guiding us to my home, where it can be your home also.”

“Home?” Dorothea stiffened in her arms, eyes wide. “Promise me, I can go home with you?”

“I am promising.” Petra said. “With all of my heart.”

“Oh, thank you, Petra. Thank you.” Dorothea leaned down for another kiss, Petra rising to meet it. “You’ve no idea what this means to me.”

“And it, to me, as well.” Petra set her down and brushed her hair from her eyes. “I should be the one that is thanking you.”

Dorothea giggled again and then her eyes seemed to snap open wider. “Oh.”

“Oh?”

“Edie is waiting for us, you know, in her expensive carriage that we’re going to climb into.” She looked down on herself and lifted her part of her dress out of the water.. “Soaking wet.”

“She will have to be dealing with it.” Petra shrugged as she pecked a kiss on her cheek. “Nothing will be ruining this.”

“I suppose she’ll have to, my Petra.” Dorothea sighed, flinging her arms around Petra’s neck. “Now, whisk me away, please.”

“I will be doing so.” Petra reached down and lifted up her legs to carry her bridal-style. They made their way back to land, laughing with all the joy they deserved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I spent far too long translating that poem into a language that doesn't exist but it's nice to use it as an excuse to relearn a little Welsh. Rwyf wrth fy modd yn ysgrifennu llawer achos mea'n hywl!
> 
> Anyway, time to work on Lavenders! Thanks for coming, do tell me your favourite line as usual~ ;) <3

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know which letter is your favourite and thank you for reading!
> 
> I will be adding a prose chapter to cap it all off because I can’t tease a reunion and not write it after all but until then I have quite a few other projects on hand haha. Lavender by the Riverbed will be updated darn it!


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